


A Private Interest

by Leshaya



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Humor, Hydra Steve Rogers, M/M, Punching, Racist Language, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leshaya/pseuds/Leshaya
Summary: Fierce and cruel Hydra!Cap makes Tony go to the other side of the force, but this time he doesn’t use violence. What does he use instead? Hm... Barnes, Rumlow and Pierce wonder too.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38
Collections: Team Fluff





	A Private Interest

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Личный интерес](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616560) by [Mister_Key](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mister_Key/pseuds/Mister_Key), [Visenna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visenna/pseuds/Visenna). 



> Many thanks to my wonderful and patient beta [betheflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betheflame/profile). And of course all my love goes to the original authors [Mister_Key and Visenna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616560). Please give them your kudos!

“Why do we make a fuss of him?” Rumlow surprised theatrically. He didn’t notice oncoming danger. “Punch him in his teeth a couple of times, he’ll be obedient.”

Sitwell was smarter and more experienced in team communication, so he moved very carefully and inconspicuously into the relatively safe distance, away from the heavy Cap’s look.

“In his teeth,” Captain Hydra repeated it in such a manner that even Barnes hunched, despite he was well regarded. “In Stark’s teeth.”

“Yes, why not?” Rumlow widened his eyes. “For how long had Hydra been hunting after him? Almost for a year and a half, yes? He is a sly son of a bitch, he laid to the ground an awful lot of our people, and he provided rebels with such a hell of ammunition..!”

Maybe Rumlow was drunk. Or maybe during the last fight, Stark hit him hard in the head. Normally Rumlow wasn’t such an idiot, but now it seemed he lost his marbles, so Pierce followed the example of Sitwell and slowly moved away.

“He provided them with the ammunition of the latest modifications,” Cap said with fake calmness. “From the underground. He had never misstepped, we caught him just because Rhodes had been heavily wounded. Am I right?”

“Well… yes?” Rumlow narrowed his eyes. Hallelujah, that idiot finally started to understand something. Pierce rode on his stool a few more inches; he would willingly repeat it if the wall hadn’t stood on his way. “We were doing great. We caught that gold-and-red motherfucker.”

“So you recommend enlisting this man — this man, who is a genius, a pain in the ass and the most persistent Hydra enemy — with a couple of punches in the teeth?”

To be honest, it would be better if Cap had screamed it. It seemed, they all felt close to a thunderstorm, so they all hunched. Everyone was praying for the same as Pierce.

_Please, not me. Let it be my neighbor, my other neighbor, the guy across me, that bastard who went over my head last month, my best friend (although there weren’t any friends in Hydra), just not me._

There weren’t doubts that casualties would follow. Maybe even mass casualties. Captain Hydra was obsessed with Tony Stark, ever genius, billionaire (i.e. ex-billionaire), playboy (fuck knows whether he could act like this among rebels) and philanthropist. Stark definitely didn’t stop to act like the latter, because from time to time he tossed his little “presents” to Hydra. Once it was a self-destructing jammer, and thanks to it rebels could complete a mission and transferred a vibranium under the very nose of the East compound. Once it was an email with a computer virus. Holy God, how could you create such an idiot, who ordered goods through their workstations with a direct connection to the control center? Of course, such an idiot didn’t exist anymore, but this was irrelevant.

Stark didn’t leave a calling card or take credit, but it was unnecessary because his pattern was very distinctive. What’s interesting is that he had never tried to harm Captain directly. At first, Rumlow watched out for a high-tech terroristic act, but time passed, and Stark still didn’t try to blow up, paralyze or poison Rogers, not even once. It was strange, to say the least.

When a couple of smoking bones were left of Rumlow — figuratively speaking, but Pierce was sure that it’s not for long — Captain gave all of them a heavy look. 

“Our victory,” he said low and ultimately as if he drove in a nail in the coffin with his every word, “is impossible without a crushing defeat of the rebels. We can hunt after them a few more years, destroy their bases, catch their leaders, but the most smashing blow to them will be Tony Stark on our side. If we kill him, his legend will live forever. I hope it’s clear for all of you.”

It was clear for all of them. Pierce shivered involuntarily, feeling nasty tickle between his shoulder blades. Okay, maybe Stark had his reasons to not blow up and poison Captain, but right now Captain was telling them with crystal clarity that he also needed alive and mostly unspoiled Stark. Mhm. 

Captain didn’t let anyone into his plan of how to win Stark over to the right side, not even Schmidt. Everyone heard just slightest hints, like yes, Stark was kept in prison, but his cell could outrank a good hotel. He had a personal shower, not only with hot water but with a hydromassage as well, a full-sized bed, a workbench, and a small library. He had even a drawing board, and at first Pierce chuckled, because there was no reason for that son of the digital age to know how the real engineers had worked back then. Rogers somehow felt his fun and promised that Stark’s first task would be the project of Pierce’s cinerary urn. Admittedly, no one hurried to give him projects to work on, but Stark proved that he could use the drawing board professionally. At least, the words “FUCK YOU” were written according to all the rules of a technical drawing. 

“I told you so,” Rumlow muttered angrily. He was locked up in the guardhouse for the whole eternity. “I told you that it would end like this.”

“Shut up,” Pierce advised him. He was angry and disappointed because Stark showed no sign of letting up. His giant drawing with the obscene suggestion (or proposal? You couldn’t be sure with damn Stark) now seemed an innocent joke at most.

At first, it was comparatively harmless: yes, Cap became a frequent visitor in a jail complex, but it was even good in some sense! At least, everyone sighed with relief at first, from sentries to Herr Schmidt himself, because Cap literally harassed him with long talks about the inevitable victory of progressive Hydra formation.

But look what had become of that! After that son of a bitch Stark managed to create his digital copy and put it into the computer system of the compound! The ruins of the armory and jail complex were still smoking, not to mention hangars and weapon depots. Of course, Stark was safe and sound, and he just gave a guiltless gaze and stepped behind Cap’s back when he was faced with the threat of punishment.

“What use is our compound, if every…” Rogers awkwardly looked back and corrected himself. “I mean if every genius can boss it as if he is at home? Bring me the security specialists!”

After that Hydra lost many of its security specialists, and Rumlow was returned to the cell in the heat of the moment. Alexander Pierce decided to discover no matter what which black magic Tony Stark was using to lead Rogers a dance. 

He needed allies in his investigation, but the search of them dragged on. Even in the past, everyone had been afraid of Rogers, but now everyone gave him an even wider berth. There were rumors in the compound that a young agent assigned to Stark once wanted to flirt with a prisoner. He still was a most famous bisexual billionaire, and the Blue Hustler channel declared him the most wanted bachelor of the year three times… until that hotbed of vice was shut. So Agent Jenkins brought him a cheeseburger, triple strength Starbucks coffee, and a box of donuts, cracked him a couple of cheap jokes, and arranged a tomorrow date. Tomorrow he was tied to a rocket ready to practice shooting in Mexico, and Rogers commanded “fire” turning a deaf ear to everyone around him.

Damn Stark was standing behind his back in a magnet cuffs and watching the execution with such a face that worldly-wise Pierce picked out immediately. 

Stark was glad. Bastard. Boy Jenkins had shown promises, he even had led a couple of punitive expeditions!

Long story short, urgent measures were in great need. But Pierce couldn’t go blind!

“Jail complex Z. I need to know what’s happened there.”

Winter Soldier stared at Pierce and whistled first notes of the funeral march — slightly of tune.

“I am completely serious,” Pierce insisted. “Captain might be in danger.”

“Anyone who will try to oversee him will definitely be in danger,” Winter Soldier countered. He was visibly tired, his artificial arm was covered with soot and his hair was grimed with whitewash. They worked like mad to reconstruct the destroyed compound, there were no exclusions for anyone.

“Maybe it is so,” Pierce agreed, “but it should be a way to… stop. We can’t oversee. But we can overhear, right?”

“What’s the difference?” Winter Soldier asked flatly.

“Captain won’t murder us immediately for the simple bugging. He understands that standard safety measures should exist. Probably. Stark is doing something with him, don’t you see? Jenkins was the first victim, who will be the next? Maybe you? How do you think, how long Rogers will hesitate if Stark asks the permission to take your arm to pieces?”

Winter Soldier’s face showed doubts, which was unusual for him. 

“Well… if you put it like that…”

Winter Soldier was slow-witted after his resettings, and the last one had been yesterday, Pierce had controlled it personally. The maintenance of a weapon of mass destruction was a constant pain in the ass, just a small distraction or safety violation could cause many big troubles. Although, Winter Soldier was impossibly quick on the uptake right now, maybe because of the stress.

“Think about one more thing,” Pierce suggested. “Stark exploded the compound, and now we all have to deal with cement and bricks. What if he will explode something more serious? Like a quinjet, the Cube, Zola’s laboratory?”

Winter Soldier’s face became haunted.

“Endless stroybat [1].” He used the strange Russian word for some reason. “No, no, just not this.”

So Alexander Pierce provided himself with bugging in the hallowed principle. Barnes’ arm was clear from suspicion, the security system considered it as its part, and the sound transmission was quite good, despite sporadic noises. 

Also, Rogers was used to see Winter Soldier beside him since early childhood, and it was one more reason to delay his murder in the case of failure.

That very evening Pierce’s receiver croaked and squeaked. Then it broadcasted the sound of steps, the rasp of a grate, and Stark’s arrogant voice.

“Have you missed me already? What a shame.”

It should be followed with choked gasps of motherfucker who crossed the line and who had been sucking the blood of literally all Hydra members for many years. However, Rogers was surprisingly peaceful.

“I decided to visit you. They say that loneliness can result in crazy actions, and you are already…”

“Yes, yes,” Stark interrupted him. “For example, you lost your mind from your loneliness, for you came to the criminal without any guards. Do you believe in your reflexes to this extent, Cap?”

“Yes, I do believe in them.” The wood creaked — maybe Rogers sat on the stool. “Also, I believe in your sense. You won’t kill me because my dead body is completely useless for you, and the serum will protect me from anything else. Oh, and I want to let you know that I’m not alone here. Winter Soldier is with me.”

“Your former friend with washed-out brains and bionic arm? Nobody has thought yet of a more or less sensible programming algorithm, really? It is totally ineffective to reset the combat unit every time. And this prosthesis of his… When was the last maintenance? I can hear the joint groaning from here.”

“Bitch,” Pierce whispered, hanging on by his eyebrows. If Rogers let Stark tinker in the prosthesis, it would be the death of conspirators. On the other hand, it would be useful for Barnes to know that Pierce didn’t lie when he warned about future problems. “Cap, come on, punch him, he deserves it!”

“Back off from Bucky,” Rogers answered, as if he heard Pierce’s thoughts, “and tell me your decision. You had enough time to think, and it’s not like you had many distractions in here.”

“As if it will be much more of them if I accept your offer. World order, are you serious? Where am I with this world order, Rogers? And I still want to know how you plan to control my loyalty. Which collar will you put on me?”

Pierce heard quiet noise — Stark tapped his fingers on a table. It seemed as if he imitated Morse signals: “t-e-l-l-m-e, t-e-l-l-m-e”. Pierce shook his head because it was too crazy of a thought.

“I know that neither collar nor cuffs can hold you.” Rogers’ voice sounded almost wistfully. Pierce didn’t want to know about his fantasies at that moment. “You like to invent and hate to be bored. I will allow you to invent, provide with any materials, and…”

“And won’t make me build weapons?” Stark asked with sincere interest. Pierce choked with air.

“Don’t you want to?” Rogers was surprised. “You have built them all this time. But if you don’t want to, I won’t make you. You have already created so much that it can be used for several years, and after that, we’ll return to this question. Transport, communications, clean energy — yes, I know about your project — new armor, prosthetics, medical equipment, security systems… do you see how many areas require your efforts?”

“I hate to build weapons,” Stark said slowly. “And I hate captivity. You offer me a long beautiful lead and sweet carrot, but what about everyone else? What’s the purpose of Hydra? What’s your purpose, Rogers?”

“What do you think it is?” Rogers’ voice was full of amusement. And of excitement, too. Pierce heard such enthusiasm from him maybe a couple of times in all his life, no more. “Total control, despotism, executions every Sunday, firing squad for every dissenter, all for the bloody world order, where every person is a little cog in a huge, perfect, heartless, and unrelenting machine.”

“I didn’t need the quote from “The ABCs for Rebels”,” Stark muttered, “I wrote just the chapter about bottle bombs. You are not an idiot, Cap. What do you want for real — is it just an endless power of a primitive dictator? Don’t disappoint me.”

After a pause Captain said almost gently, “Stark, have you really just complimented me and made eyes at me? Do you think that I’ll go all soft and become an easy mark for you after that?”

“Well, I have to start somewhere. Actually, I count on your… hm… firmness in some matters. And you still haven’t answered me. Nazism was based on the idea of race supremacy, communism was based on the idea of ideology supremacy and class equality. What is the base of your new world order?”

Pierce felt that he was sweating from head to toe. Stark flirted shamelessly and dropped hints, searching for a weakness. A day ago — an hour ago! — Pierce would stake his life that Rogers wouldn’t buy on such cheap tricks. Well, he was lucky that he didn’t stake anything. It seemed that Rogers was too deeply affected by his past when he had pretended to be one of Avengers. Of course, he kept a straight face… yet, but even baby Sharon Carter couldn’t provoke that purring in Captain’s voice. “They lack only music.” Pierce thought angrily. “Argentine tango. It’s too obvious how they go round each other.”

“It’s a personality,” Rogers answered confidently. “By the way, your counting is right, I’m definitely… firm. And charismatic.”

“I could die on the spot from your impossible humbleness.” Stark reacted immediately. Pierce ground his teeth, swearing at both of them: Stark be damned for he was hundred-percents-Stark, and Captain be damned for he was visibly ready to let Stark go on further and further. Even now he didn’t snap, didn’t punch…

“I don’t approve meaningless deaths.” Rogers retorted. “And the answer to your question is that, in my opinion, humankind got lost and has been going the wrong way for a long time. It has been wandering somewhere, wasting time and resources on some rubbish, and making mistakes. Now I’m in charge and I will change all of it.”

“Who did give you the right to decide for all humankind?” Stark asked a bit sadly.

“Nobody,” Pierce felt how Captain shrugged at that moment. “Nobody could give this right to you, you can just take it yourself if you have enough strength. And I have enough of it.”

“Then why do you need me?”

“Do you want to be complimented too, don’t you? Do you remember I mentioned personality? Your genius, your imagination, your will to push the limits every possible moment — all of it guarantee that Hydra won’t become a musty swamp. You know, I’m able to learn from past mistakes. Entropy is growing in isolated systems, and you are…”

“Schrodinger's negentropy,” Tony huffed. “It seems that I called upon me a huge compliment, and well, I like it.”

“So you will be with me?”

Stark’s chuckle was hoarse and challenging.

“Hydra and you are not the same. Yet. I could try to be with you, but Hydra doesn’t tolerate me, and it will bite my head off at the earliest opportunity.”

All that was before now seemed just a child’s play for Pierce. They talked about nothing less than betrayal. Stark drew Rogers on seizing the power, i.e. rid of Schmidt. One thought was enough for an uncontrolled shiver and choked breath. While Rogers was the source of respect and fear, Schmidt was the source of hellish horror. It was something… eerie in him.

“Hydra respects my wishes,” Rogers said dismissively and hoarsely as well, distracting Pierce from the infernal nature of Herr Schmidt. “And I wish to see you on my side… Tony.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Pierce's mind was racing; all things considered, that situation couldn’t end well. Whether Rogers would win over Schmidt or Schmidt would win over Rogers, commanders would be a scapegoat as usual. And Pierce wouldn’t escape many and many problems just because any shift of power…

Wait a minute.

...not only brought danger but gave you a lot of chances. Of course, if you were smart and cautious enough!

“You brought in the big guns, didn’t you?” Stark was saying at the moment. Pierce imagined his face so clearly, that he was itching to smother him despite the distance: narrowed dark eyes, naughty half-smile, healing abrasion on his cheek. “Do you try to snatch the initiative?”

“Donuts,” Cap said shortly, making impossible. He managed to shut Stark up for a minute.

“...what?”

“You like donuts with cherry jam.” Rogers went on, pressing the advantage as if he was in a battle. “And I like to watch you eat...”

“Well, Captain, that’s something.”

“...sleep, work, fight, draw. Though I don’t like swearing, and that’s the reason why you drew that shameless draft, isn’t it?” Pierce heard something in Rogers’ voice… smile? Shit, exactly. And hope too, and Pierce couldn’t wrap his head around it. “You consider my taste too, Tony. Only in the opposite way.” 

“You imagine that,” Stark said, but it was clear that Rogers didn’t imagine anything and that this bastard was going to keep it up.

“By the way, I saved your digital copy to my computer,” Rogers said blandly. “It’s very interesting to talk with him.”

“Wha-a-at? Rogers, you… you promised me that you’d delete all traces from the system!” Stark’s voice showed his anger, slight fear, and… amusement?

“I’ve deleted all of them. My personal computer is constantly offline, so I didn’t break my promise.”

“And my copy hasn’t burned the motherboard of your fuck…”

“Tony, language! And no, he hasn’t. I wonder why. Maybe you’ll come and see?”

Pierce would continue to listen to them, but his receiver crackled, rustled, and Winter Soldier said with suddenly rich emotions: “Fuck it, I can’t stand their cooing no more. I’m back.”

Pierce cursed him silently but then thought that it was for the best anyway. Firstly, they would definitely lose Winter Soldier after another half an hour of that talking, and even reset wouldn’t help in that case. Secondly, Pierce had one idea…

“So, are you convinced now?” He started right off the bat when Winter Soldier came round the corner. “Rogers is dangerous, and Stark…”

“Forget about it,” Winter Soldier cut off firmly, although in a flat voice. “If you want to meddle there, I’m out of the game.”

He definitely should go through another reset. Former sergeant Barnes started to look and behave almost like a normal human, and Pierce didn’t like it at all.

“Yeah? And why is it so?”

A nasty grimace appeared on a pale face.

“Because you must be an idiot to try and get between those two.” Winter Soldier said. “Steve needs this smart son of a bitch, and even I won’t risk getting into their business.”

“Don’t you understand that we are on the verge of riot and rebellion? That if Schmidt knows about it — and he will know about it for certain…”

“Not from me.” Winter Soldier’s voice suddenly seemed like a combat knife aiming right in the eye. Pierce shivered. “And not from you, is it clear?”

“I didn’t mean it.” He assured quickly, turning the watches on his wrist nervously. It contained a voice record of codes that controlled Hydra's live weapon. It was made after one unfortunate incident with Winter Soldier’s bionic arm and the throat of his curator. “But if you would have to choose Schmidt or Rogers, who would you choose?”

“Steve,” Winter Soldier answered as fast as he shot. “We have known each other much longer. And so you know, Pierce, I’m watching you. I’m sick of your resets, and about your codes… well, if Stark is so smart, maybe he will help me with them.”

Pierce decided to stick to several rules. Firstly, he tried to avoid Schmidt at any cost. Of course, Pierce couldn’t avoid him completely, and it would be dangerous not to keep up to speed, but Pierce couldn’t take a risk to see the head of Hydra face to face. Secondly, Pierce reactivated safe houses in Argentina, Germany, and (he squinted internally) Mongolia and provided them with all things that were necessary to withstand a year-long siege. And thirdly, Stark. Perce was going to find a way to neutralize him, despite all the reasons of frozen Soldier, and he wasn’t going to let Stark out of his sight till that moment. It was easy because Rogers took Stark from the cell and now he was constantly standing behind Rogers’ shoulder when he wasn't hanging out in his laboratory.

Schmidt watched it in bewilderment like the other compound inmates, and it wasn’t good kind of bewilderment. Sitwell retold Pierce what he had heard during the last parade. Rogers watched marching soldiers and Stark stood behind him when Schmidt interested: “What is he doing here? Here and not in the torture chamber?”

“He is working,” Captain answered shortly. “He needs to see ammunition in action so he can improve it afterward.”

Schmidt raised his eyebrows and stared Stark up and down.

“Do you trust him so much? Why? He dreams of a couple more explosions, it’s written all over his face.”

“The compound is safely secured for the first time, and that’s all because of that security check,” Rogers retorted. “Stark just had a wrong education. Now that he sees the power and the truth of Hydra, he will make it up to us. Moreover, we have one of his friends.”

Sitwell said that Stark had feigned a sickeningly gracious face at those words.

Friend, yes. Whose name was… how was that… Rhodes. Pierce managed to forget about him and it was inexcusable negligence. Rhodes was seriously injured during the last mission; the broken spine wasn’t a joke. Pierce would liquidate him if he wasn’t the lever of pressure for Stark. Where was that Rhodes now? Most likely, he went into his bed in the prison hospital...

It turned out that he really went, although it was quite literally: he went around corridors of the compound wearing some fantastic corset of metal and plastic. Two doctors mother-henned him chirping something about a revolutionary breakthrough in the rehabilitation of polytrauma. Pierce spitted, moved the doctors aside, and stared at Rhodes heavily. He looked at Pierce naughty and calmly and that was not the way how injured captured rebels should look at the Hydra commander.

“Winter Soldier,” Pierce said with meaning and thoroughly measured warning, “was glad to have his prosthesis at first too. But then…”

Rhodes’ dark face became even darker.

“You are such a dick,” he answered blatantly and gracefully. “Tony was right to shoot at people like you, and it’s a pity that it wasn’t enough. Are you able to be strong only with disabled people? Although, I can beat you even with my prostheses if you dare to come closer with that brainwashing thing of yours.”

Pierce preferred plotting behind the scenes to a shoving match, so he stepped backward involuntary, and Rhodes went round him screwing up his face in revulsion. His grimace was so similar to Stark’s (nasty habits were easy to pick up) that Pierce’s cheekbones ached, mouth opened as by itself and the quiet “nigger” slipped out of it.

Rhodes turned right away as if he waited for that and Pierce didn’t have a chance to step back this time. The first big fist hit him in a jaw, the second big fist knocked the hell out of him. Pierce bent trying to catch his breath and punched off the alert button on his wristband…

It was the biggest of rare mistakes which he made in his life full of dangers and threats.

Winter Soldier came after 40 seconds, estimated the situation, and stood in the corner to watch meditatively how Rhodes was making mincemeat of Pierce. Some patrolman stepped closer, but saw a wicked movement of the bionic arm and returned to his previous position.

“What… are… you…” Pierce tried to say something, spitting blood. He lacked three teeth, and the black veil obscured his vision and promised to shut him down completely, but Rhodes didn’t stop with his punches.

“This is for Tony! This is for Natasha! And this is for… for…”

“For me,” Barnes suggested flatly, still standing quietly at the side. Rhodes looked at him with wild angry eyes, nodded readily, and lifted his fist up.

“And for this guy!”

After that Pierce lost consciousness and woke up three days later in a white sterile medical unit. He was all bandaged up and his head was heavy as hell. He moved and groaned, the attached device beeped anxiously, the door opened, and Rogers and Schmidt walked through it. They wore medical scrubs over their uniforms, and at first Pierce assumed that it was only his hallucination. Unfortunately, Rogers immediately chased away that nice thought.

“I didn’t expect that from you, Pierce,” he said very calmly. “To call the war prisoner awful things… The prisoner who has a huge experience in air combat and squadron commanding, who is ready to come to our side…”

“Your rank won’t let me send you to jail,” Schmidt added dully, “but it doesn’t mean that I will stand such behavior from the officer who should give an example to privates. As soon as doctors let you, you’ll go to inspect Alaska. Cool your heels a little bit.”

They turned away and went outside in synch, and Pierce closed his eyes hopelessly. Right now Alaska seemed to him quite a good place. 

There he got news only from reports (he had learned to read them between the lines long ago) and rare messages from Rumlow. Pierce didn’t expect that Rumlow would keep in touch with a disgraced fellow officer, but it seemed he just needed to release his annoyance and bewilderment.

“The compound looks like a public thoroughfare,” he wrote in an email which was sent to Pierce’s top-secret mailbox. “Recruits training was passed to a woman named Romanoff, a former KGB agent. Recruits cry at night and beg to return them to their Mummies. Also, she is a friend of Stark and I don’t know why she hasn’t choked him yet… A certain Doctor Banner joined genetic experiments, and Zola became quiet so as not to anger him. Stark emptied all coffee reserves at the compound and suggested installing coffee machines and vending donut machines in all the corridors. Rogers let him do it, and now everybody is constantly chewing because donuts are tasty.”

Pierce just swallowed hungrily. He was driven wild with such news and inevitable meals from preserves. 

“Rogers became even stranger than earlier.” That was at the end of the letter. “He says that democracy is the decent evolution of Hydra ideals and that true order is impossible without freedom. I think he has gone mad. He let Stark experiment with the Cube and all that stuff. You are a smart son of a bitch, Alex, Alaska is safer right now.”

After short thinking Pierce decided that Brock was right. An experiment, the Cube, and Stark combined together definitely should result in some catastrophe. 

He just couldn’t imagine how big that catastrophe would be. 

...A stack of newspapers was thrown to him from a helicopter, along with his provision. Pierce unleashed a torrent of swearwords on the supply officer because he once again sent too little matches and horrible tiny fish in red sauce which provoked heartburn and nightmares. In between, he unfolded a week old “Hydra Herald” and dropped cans that he held in his hands.

“The memory of Herr Schmidt is enshrined in our hearts,” The leading article assured. “The loyal Hydra soldier will inherit the helm…”

Pierce thumped through issues and pages one by one. The solemn necrology of Red Skull. The photo series: Rogers in a sable parade uniform, Stark with sour face to the right of him, profusely decorated Viewing Room. A new program of Hydra development. The severe article promising internal probes and arrests of some Hydra showy figures who abused the cloth…

The magazine “Technology for the Youth” appeared in the stack of newspapers as if by some invisible force and it was the last straw. The cover showed Stark in the most obscene way: a dirty face, disheveled hair, a white tank, a hammer in his hands. Pierce could swear that he spotted a prominent hickey on the back of that nasty neck. The article explained to young engineers how to repair a bionic arm prosthesis using a set of screwdrivers, a piece of wire, a foil sheet, and a petroleum jelly. The article also contained a photo of the Winter Soldier in a boy scout camp where he was rewarded with a badge “For knotting”. His face was dreamy. Obviously, he was imagining how he would try his new skills on some of his colleagues. 

Pierce threw the magazine aside and a small piece of paper flew out of it. There was only one word “Run!”

***

The next morning started with the stuttered report of Commandant of the most northern Hydra compound. He informed commanders that Alexander Pierce was missing. 

“Oh,” Commander of the best Hydra airwing (James Rhodes) commented when the head of the Science department and the unspoken favorite of Captain Hydra (Anthony Edward Stark) shared the news with him, “we could expect that. Barnes missed too. Mind my words, he will find Pierce wherever he goes, even in Mongolia, and bring him here. Like a post package.”

“And it will be just in time to judge Pierce for his crimes.” Tony huffed. He looked almost indecently content; his eyes seemed unusually bright with his new tan which shouted of his well-being. For the whole two weeks Rogers had been checking battle-readiness of the Pacific fleet and of course he couldn’t leave Stark without his surveillance. “He is the last one. Others are just small fries, they already sincerely believe that Hydra and democracy are the same.”

Rhodes chuckled.

“Your game is dangerous, Tones.”

“You said it back then too,” Stark said nonchalantly. “And I’m still telling you that Rogers is a good person. He just caught up in an unlucky coincidence. I think he is really happy that Schmidt isn’t here anymore, and freedom… now freedom is closer to us than at any other moment in the past. You’ll wait and see that in five or ten years we’ll make out of Hydra a normal society.”

Rhodes gave Tony a silent weird look, and Tony gave up with a sigh.

“Well, yes, yes. I have a private interest. You know, I hate to date tyrants and villains.”

“Well, if you put it like this…” Rhodes hesitated. “But do you love him?”

Tony sighed once again. Then his eyes flared up with vivid fire and he said excitedly, “I am screwed if we don’t succeed in passing the law for gay marriages. Rogers proved to be a romantic. He declared his feelings for me at Hawaiian sunset and presented me with a handful of pearls that he had picked up himself. And now he waits for my answer.”

Rhodes whistled and shook his head as if he didn’t believe his ears.

“So answer him,” he advised, “that social prosperity and democratic liberty should be the first thing and only after that you could think of marriage. Hey, what’s the look on your face?”

Stark smiled dreamily and happily.

“You know,” he said, “probably I won’t wait till universal suffrage becomes a thing. Cap is too perfect, I’m afraid that someone can take him from me.”

“Barnes won’t let it happen,” Rhodey snorted. “Do you remember that… Carter junior? Barnes just asked her for a dance and after that she doesn’t even look at Cap.”

Tony wanted to say something, but the door opened and Captain Hydra entered the room. It seemed that he took up all the space. 

“Well, I have to go,” Rhodes said and disappeared at an amazingly quick speed. Captain watched his going.

“I think,” he said, “it would be useful for us to set an example for subordinates.”

“Oh, and what would it be?” Stark interested. “Listen, what about a disarmament program? There is no one to fight anymore, so we can put all our efforts into progress. Or I have another thought — why our surroundings are so… well-ordered, green-colored, whitewashed, and perfectly covered? Maybe we could begin to contribute to personality? A soldier-personality is a way better than a soldier-cog and a civil…

“Marry me,” Rogers said straightforwardly as usual. “It will strengthen relations within the divided society, prove your loyalty to Hydra…”

“Fuck Hydra,” Stark said, stepped forward and closed his hands on the back of frowned Rogers’ head. “I need only you.”

Captain Hydra paused for a couple of seconds, kissed him thoroughly and deeply, and confessed, “You know… I think it’s the same for me. I need only you and fuck them all.”

“I could build a spaceship to fly with you to the very edge of our Universe,” Stark suggested. His eyes were shining like stars.

“Is it bad if this idea seems alluring for me in some way?” Captain… no, just Steve asked.

“It is wonderful,” Tony answered. “Now I’m completely on your side!”

**Author's Note:**

> Translator’s notes:  
> [1] ‘Stroybat’ means ‘construction battalion’ in Russian. It was an army division with a really bad reputation in the Soviet Union. There was an opinion that it consisted mostly of bullies, idiots, skinny guys, and former prisoners. It could be depicted like [this](https://bazilevskiy.ru/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/8891591.jpg).


End file.
